No, Annie thought. She was not going to go there. Not then. Not with Francine. “Actually, I was thinking about you and Bella. And how grateful I am that you came into my life. And I was thinking about Meghan. And how sad I am . . .” She stopped abruptly, hoping her small slip would pass by unnoticed.
“Who?” Francine asked because she was a smart girl and didn’t miss much.
Without warning, tears spilled from Annie’s eyes. Francine stopped fussing with the dishes, dried her hands, and took Annie by the arm. She led her into the tiny chef’s room and closed the door after them.
“Annie? What’s going on?”
Shaking her head, Annie said, “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? You can’t tell me something? Is it serious? Is someone sick? And who is Meghan?”
Annie could have made up another story—making up stories was her real job, wasn’t it? But aside from the fact that she’d never been good at outright lying, Annie knew it would leave her feeling off-kilter. And ashamed. No, lying to Francine was not an option. Besides, Francine was a strong, capable young woman who knew how to overcome obstacles. And how to keep secrets. Despite their thirty-year age difference, Annie knew that Francine could help put the situation in perspective. And maybe help Annie weather her emotions.
Wiping her tears, she raised her head, set her gaze on the countertop, and said, “Meghan is Mary Beth Mullen. She isn’t a scientist, and she doesn’t work at MBL. I’m not sure if she even wants to. You were right when you questioned that. She thinks the leatherbacks are interesting, but don’t most of us?” She realized she was stalling. “Her real name is Meghan MacNeish. She is Kevin’s wife. Or at least she was until his divorce papers came through. But Meghan doesn’t know about that. And I’m sure not going to be the one to tell her.” Then her eyes met Francine’s.
Francine was gaping at her. “What?”
Annie gave a short laugh. “Please don’t make me repeat all that.”
“But I thought . . .”
“I know. You thought Kevin’s wife suffered a traumatic brain injury from a construction accident. She did. Years ago. She was in a coma a long time, followed by a bout with amnesia. The last time she saw Kevin she didn’t know who he was. The doctors didn’t expect that to change. It was painful for Kevin. And it took him a long time, but he finally was able to move on. That’s when he came to the Vineyard. In the meantime, a kind of miracle happened; Meghan’s brain function started to return. As you can see, today she’s fine. She still gets headaches, but otherwise she does really well. And please don’t make me repeat that, either.”
Francine leaned against the cabinet where her griddles and skillets and bakeware were kept. Her large, dark eyes looked bigger and darker than usual. “This is amazing. But Kevin is . . .”
“In Hawaii,” Annie said. “With Taylor. And he doesn’t know about Meghan. She begged me not to tell him. She thinks that because of Taylor, it’s not the right time for him to know. She says he’s been through a lot, too, and that if he’s happy, she doesn’t want to upset that.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. End of story. I shouldn’t have told you. Now it’s your secret to keep, too. And that includes not telling Jonas. Okay?”
“I promise I won’t breathe a word. But poor Mary Beth. Meghan. And poor Kevin! He’ll be so upset when he finds out . . .”
“Ifhe finds out. But it will have to come from Meghan, not us. Right?”
“Right. But, Annie, it’s so sad. She must be so scared that Kevin will pick Taylor over her. Is that why she doesn’t want him to know? Because she’s afraid of how much it will hurt if he rejects her? Whether it’s physical hurt or emotional hurt, hurting still hurts, doesn’t it?”
Annie hadn’t thought of it that way. But, of all people, Francine knew about hurt. Her early years had been loaded with it.
Chapter 21
Annie spent the rest of the morning performing as if she suffered with obsessive compulsive disorder, as her mother had once been diagnosed. She futzed (her dad used to call it) on the main floor of the Inn, straightening furniture that didn’t need straightening, dusting windowsills that didn’t need dusting, rearranging books in the reading room. She then moved to the front desk, where she aimlessly scanned the spreadsheets of the Inn’s income and out-go; she reviewed the list of housekeeping supplies to determine what needed ordering; she counted their many stars on the online travel sites. The truth, however, was that she did not have OCD; she simply had no interest in working, no interest in doing anything except trying to invent a way to get Meghan to change her mind and stay. But everything Annie thought of was too close to meddling. As if she hadn’t already done that.
By noon, she considered biting her fingernails the way Francine sometimes did. Which was when Earl showed up.
“You want to join us for dinner? Francine and Bella and Jonas are coming; Claire’s going to repurpose leftovers from last night.”
Annie suspected he’d at last learned about John’s decision to “take a break.” And maybe he felt sorry for her.
“Can I have a rain check?” she asked. “I’m taking the honeymooners to the airport to drop off their car, then down to the boat. From there Mary Beth and I are going to the fair.” She prayed that Francine wouldn’t slip and reveal Mary Beth’s identity during dinner at Claire and Earl’s, or that she’d mention that Kevin really, really needed to get home.
She looked back at the spreadsheet. “We’ve had a good season,” she said.
Earl chuckled. “ ‘To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence.’ My old friend Mark Twain said that.”
“I’m not sure we had confidence, but we sure had ignorance,” Annie said with a laugh. Earl was obviously attempting to lift her spirits—a sure sign he did, indeed, know about John.
“My wife thinks it might be time for us to start figuring out what we’ll do if Kevin doesn’t come home,” he said.
